Life of Edwin Forrest, the American Tragedian, Том 1

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J. B. Lippincott & Company, 1877
 

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Стр. 281 - In his steep course? So long he seems to pause On thy bald awful head, O sovran BLANC, The Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity!
Стр. 306 - Never, lago. Like to the Pontic sea, Whose icy current and compulsive course Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on To the Propontic and the Hellespont ; Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace, Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love. Till that a capable and wide revenge Swallow them up. — Now, by yond marble heaven, In the due reverence of a sacred vow {Kneels, I here engage my words.
Стр. 308 - I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind, To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black, And have not those soft parts of conversation That chamberers have...
Стр. 308 - O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours, And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad, And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, Than keep a corner in the thing I love For others
Стр. 310 - No, you unnatural hags, I will have such revenges on you both, That all the world shall — I will do such things — What they are yet I know not ; but they shall be The terrors of the earth.
Стр. 144 - Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Стр. 207 - Scaling yonder peak, I saw an eagle wheeling near its brow O'er the abyss : — his broad expanded wings Lay calm and motionless upon the air, As if he floated there without their aid, By the sole act of his unlorded will, That buoyed him proudly up.
Стр. 359 - Entered the breast of the wild-dreaming boy ; And from that hour I grew — what to the last I shall be — thine adorer ! Well ! this love, Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became A fountain of ambition and bright hope : I thought of tales that by the winter hearth Old gossips tell — how maidens, sprung from kings, Have stooped from their high sphere : how Love, like Death, Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook Beside the scepter.
Стр. 311 - LEAR: My wits begin to turn. Come on my boy. How dost, my boy? Art cold? I am cold myself.
Стр. 347 - Take the wings Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings —yet the dead are there...

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